Comfort of the familiar

There is a certain level of comfort associated with a place where you spent a lot of time when you're young. This is the feeling I felt at my husband's parents' house over Thanksgiving. While it's not normally a place I like to spend tons of time, it's a comfortable place filled with warmth. Standing in the kitchen this morning, I felt a warmth there that I have not quite been able to duplicate in my own home. I was ready to come home but reluctant to leave. Those feelings were actually very unexpected. Usually, I have my stuff packed and I'm ready to run, not walk, out the door. Now that we're home, I'm glad to be back but some of those feelings of reluctance remain.